Chapter Seventy-One: Chance Encounter

“There isn’t a parent in the world who doesn’t love their own child. They must have run into difficulties they couldn’t avoid. You must work hard to grow up, to go to university, to pursue your master’s and doctorate. When you finally earn your doctorate, you can go seek them out. You could even post a notice online, and by then, I’m sure they’ll be proud of you…”

Words nearly identical to these had echoed in Zhang Qian’s ears when he was very, very young.

Back then, Aunt Liu was still youthful, not a wrinkle on her face, her black hair cascading like a waterfall.

Back then, he’d believed every word she said. And so, he ate diligently, studied hard, trained, and strove to grow up.

Until right before the mock college entrance exams, when he lost her forever.

He felt as if he’d been struck by lightning, frozen in place, tears flowing uncontrollably. Yet Zhang Qian dared not turn around, for fear that if he did, the girl behind him would sprout wings and fly away like an angel in his dreams.

He’d had countless similar sweet dreams, and every time, the moment he turned or reached out, that gentlest, most beautiful woman would suddenly unfurl pure white wings and swiftly fly away, dissolving into his dreams, no matter how he cried or begged her to stay.

Perhaps it was only a few seconds, or perhaps it was centuries. When control of his body finally returned, Zhang Qian gritted his teeth and slowly stepped back—one step, two steps, three, four—moving by memory and instinct, his back pressed against the bamboo grove, edging closer to the sound of sobbing.

Whoever was speaking, be they angel or devil, he was determined to find out today.

He’d missed his chance too many times. Today, he had to seize her hand before she could grow wings.

Even if this was still only a dream, he’d rather sink into it and never wake again.

“Cousin! Cousin! I’ve brought your medicine! I have the wound balm!” A clear, youthful voice suddenly shattered his “sweet dream” into pieces. Hot on its heels came a string of angry questions: “Who are you? What are you doing? Cousin, be careful—there’s a prowler!”

The last warning was clearly meant for the sobbing girl, who instantly sprang to her feet, clutching a small, gray-blue rabbit no larger than a fist, stumbling backward.

At that moment, Zhang Qian decisively turned around, catching sight of the girl’s panic-stricken face, her eyes red from crying.

It wasn’t Aunt Liu! She was far younger than Aunt Liu had ever been in his memories—taller, and lacking the kindness that had shone in Aunt Liu’s eyes.

Aunt Liu, constrained by her modest salary, had always dressed plainly and never wore jewelry. This red-eyed girl, by contrast, was arrayed in an elegantly ornate pale blue Tang dynasty gown, with a shimmering ruby hairpin atop her head.

“Who are you? Why are you in my family’s back garden? Didn’t the servants tell you this area is off limits?” Even before Zhang Qian could feel his disappointment, the questioning came one after another: “Cousin, where are Hong Ying and the others? How did they all vanish in the blink of an eye?!”

“Hong Ying and the others heard the commotion up front and went to watch Qin Lü and Zhang Bogao. Ouch—” The girl with the ruby hairpin, still recovering from her earlier tears, explained in a choked voice.

“You spoil them too much! One day they’ll get out of hand. Now, who are you, and what are you doing in my family’s backyard?” The questioner, aided by two maids, had already blocked Zhang Qian’s path, trapping him.

“My surname is Zhang, given name Qian,” Zhang Qian answered, noting that the girl questioning him, dressed in pale yellow and looking seventeen or eighteen, could be either Zhang Ruoxu’s favored concubine or his daughter. He took a few steps back to widen the distance, then bowed with cupped hands. “I was invited by Uncle Zhang to attend his chrysanthemum banquet. I lost my way and ended up here by accident. I ask for your forgiveness, young ladies, for my intrusion.”

“So you’re Zhang Yongzhao? I’ve heard my father and mother mention you!” On hearing his name, the hostility in the girl’s eyes faded. She tilted her head, scrutinized him, and finally fixed her gaze on his black scarf. “Didn’t my father tell you not to wander about today? What if you were mistaken for a prowler by my cousin’s maids and beaten to death? Wouldn’t that be a shame!”

“I truly was a bit dizzy from drinking just now,” Zhang Qian said, instinctively touching his head and feeling the smooth silk scarf instead of bare scalp. It dawned on him why she kept staring at his crown. “Also, Uncle Zhang was busy greeting guests and likely forgot to mention there were important guests in the back garden.”

“That still doesn’t mean you should wander around!” The girl in yellow resolutely refused to blame her father, rolling her eyes. “Father says you’re a disciple of the Mohist school and full of hidden depths, but you’re just a reckless youth!”

“I admit my fault and ask for your forgiveness, young ladies.” No matter what, he couldn’t stoop to squabbling with Zhang Ruoxu’s daughter. Zhang Qian gave a sheepish smile and bowed again.

“It’s not just about forgiveness. You really don’t know your limits. Luckily, I came back in time just now…” The girl in yellow still wouldn’t let it go, scolding him in a low voice.

“That’s enough, Qingheng. He meant no offense.” The ruby-haired girl smiled and waved gently. “He had his back to me. If you hadn’t called out, he probably wouldn’t even have seen me.”

“Cousin, you’re too kind. What if he turned around because he heard my footsteps?” Qingheng frowned, retorting in a low voice.

“I’m not some celestial maiden who can’t be seen by mortals! Ouch—” The ruby-haired girl smiled again, her face briefly radiant. “Let him go. I believe he means no harm.”

“My father counts him as a close friend despite the age gap. Of course he’s not a bad person. Fine, since you don’t mind, I won’t play the villain.” Qingheng relented, then suddenly grew wary. “Wait, Zhang Yongzhao! Do you dare take off your scarf and let me have a look? I’ve never seen you before!”

“Why wouldn’t I dare?” All Zhang Qian wanted was to leave as soon as possible. He quickly removed the scarf and held it in his hand.

Since arriving in the Tang dynasty, he’d found it hardest to adjust to growing his hair and wearing a scarf, so every few days he had Zijuan trim his hair, never letting it grow longer than an inch.

His hair, fine and soft, lay flat against his scalp after wearing the scarf, making it look as if it were covered by another layer of black silk.

The ruby-haired girl’s gaze was immediately drawn to his novel hairstyle. Her phoenix eyes widened into two little bells. Meanwhile, with her nose still full of tears, she could no longer control herself, and snot began to stream out.

“Oh, dear!” She realized her embarrassment at once and instinctively reached to cover her nose, only to remember she was still holding the furry rabbit; her face flushed red, she stamped her foot and quickly turned away.

Seeing her almost wipe her face with the newborn bunny, Zhang Qian wanted to laugh but dared not, barely stifling it. He hurriedly put his scarf back on, bowed, and said, “If there’s nothing else, may I take my leave?”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode away, his footsteps ringing out as he fled twenty meters or more. Only when he’d forced back his laughter did he realize he was still lost. He found himself in a quandary, not knowing whether to keep walking or turn back to ask directions.

“What now? Why aren’t you leaving?” Qingheng, still annoyed at him for embarrassing her cousin, scolded as soon as she saw him stop again. “Are you waiting for me to send someone to escort you?”

“Qingheng, maybe he really doesn’t know the way.” The ruby-haired girl, now composed after cleaning her tears and nose with her maid’s help, quickly guessed the reason for their encounter. She pulled her cousin’s sleeve and whispered, “Besides, there are tear marks at the corners of his eyes too. He looks like he’s just been crying. Don’t blame him.”

“He’s a grown man! Why would he cry for no reason? My father wouldn’t let the other guests bully him!” Qingheng was taken aback, frowning in suspicion.

Then she remembered what her father had told her about Zhang Qian’s story. Her skepticism melted into sympathy. “Never mind. I think I know why—he suffers from Sima Niu’s sorrow.” (Sima Niu’s sorrow, also known as Sima Niu’s lament, refers in the Analects to a man named Sima Niu who lamented his own loneliness.)

Having guessed the real reason for Zhang Qian’s tears, her heart softened. She raised her voice and called out to his back, “Brother Yongzhao, turn left, go straight past the pavilion, then at the second intersection, turn left again and keep going along the path. You’ll see a side gate into the other garden. My father made the paths complicated on purpose for the sake of some rustic charm. Today’s mishap isn’t your fault!”

“Thank you so much!” Zhang Qian turned and bowed to the two girls, then, orienting himself, quickly disappeared from their sight.

“Sima Niu’s sorrow? Does this Zhang fellow have no siblings?” Watching his lonely figure retreat, the ruby-haired girl asked Qingheng with some sympathy.

“It’s quite a story…” With nothing better to do, Qingheng decided to tell her cousin everything she knew about Zhang Qian. She failed to notice that as she spoke, her cousin’s eyes grew red again, and her hands, still cradling the little rabbit, began to tremble.

Zhang Qian had been abandoned by his sect, cast out alone from the mountain.

She, in turn, was about to be sent far away by her parents.

Between the two, who could say which was more wretched?